Dear Stranger
by squashabug
Summary: Edward Cullen. What kind of name was that? That of a serial killer, of course. I'm absolutely NO good at summaries, and this is my first fic. Ever. But hey, give it a shot? All human, pretty OOC.


It was a typical Friday night.

Alice and I were sprawled across my living room floor in our pyjamas, watching whatever chick flick she'd brought over this time. I loved Alice, really, she'd been my best friend for years, but why she couldn't pick a movie with a little more.. _substance_ was beyond me.

Boy meets girl, girl falls in love with boy, boy breaks girl's heart, girl cries a lot - so does Alice. The End.

"Next weekend I get to pick the movie, Alice."

"You have horrible taste in movies, Bella," she groaned. "Schindler's List? Come on! What _was_ that?"

"A classic, Alice. I'm so terribly sorry it didn't star _Brad Pitt_," I feigned a dreamy sigh while rolling my eyes.

"Shut it, bitch. Hey, did you have English with Moore today?"

"Mm, nope. Anything good happen? Did he realise he's driving around with a bumper sticker telling whole of Forks that he's gay, yet?" I asked, excitedly.

"Not quite, but he dropped that stupid novel studies unit! You'll be absolutely _thrilled_ when you hear what we're doing next," her voice dripped with sarcasm, and I knew this meant extreme suffering on my part. Anything that didn't involve reading a book flat out sucked.

"Cut the shit, Al, lay it on me."

"Pen pals."

"You- wait. You're joking, right? What is this, sixth grade? I'm not writing to some serial killer posing as a high school student, no way in _hell_," I hissed. I'd been forced into many things by this foul creature known as Mr. Moore. I thought nothing could have been worse than him reading one of my poems to the entire junior class, but clearly I was wrong.

I wasn't cut out for a pen pal. I felt stupid just _saying_ pen pal. Writing letters, getting to know someone I'd never meet from some place I'd never even dream of visiting. What was the point? I had all the friends I needed right here in Forks, thank you very much. I didn't need one who was thousands of miles away.

"It won't be so bad, Bell, he's already set me up with mine. You'll get your card on Monday, I've got mine already. Want to take a look?" she squealed. _How _could she be excited? I'd rather keep a diary. Gay. I'd rather move in with Renee and Phil in Jacksonville (it rhymes, so it's ultra gay. That means it's _definitely_ not happening) and choke on water while trying to perform the simple task that is breathing.

"Not particularily," I groaned, stretching my right arm to turn off the lamp. "Good night, Al, see you in the morning."

"Mm, night Bells."

And I eventually drifted off to dreamland, trying to tune out the (not so) peaceful sound that is Alice snoring.

_Fastforward_. Because a weekend with Alice is the cruelest form of torture.

It was a typical Monday night.

I'd been staring at this stupid index card for the past two hours. This was _wrong_. This was going to suck, hard. How that excuse for a teacher forced me into this, I don't know, but I was putting my foot down. I was not going to enjoy this one _bit_.

Suck on that, Mr. Moore. On second thought, don't. We all know you're gay. You might enjoy it too much.

Edward Cullen.

What kind of name was _that_? That of a serial killer, of course. He was probably one of those guys that would make you fall in love with him over the internet, charm you over the telephone, and then when you wasted _your_ hard earned money to visit your 'soulmate,' he'd lock you in his basement and pull some creepy shit like drinking your blood or something.

All right, _focus_, Bella.

"Dear Edward,

My name is Isabella Swan. Call me Bella, I prefer that. Everyone calls me Bella. Isabella is too formal. My dad calls me Isabella, though, even though I've clearly asked him not to."

Go on then, idiot, see how many _more_ times you can fit your name in there.

"I live in a small town named Forks. That's in Washington. It's small, the kind of place where you'd get stared at if someone saw you and didn't recognize you as a resident. Not _you_, but like.. anyone who wasn't from here. It rains a lot, there's never anything to do, and it's really green."

For real? This pen pal shit was harder than it looked.

I read over the index card again, though I really didn't need to. I'd pretty much memorized everything about this kid.

Edward Cullen from Phoenix, Arizona. Used to live in Alaska. 17 years old. Lived with his brother, sister and parents. Really into everything classic - movies, music, books.

Why the hell anyone would _ever_ live in Alaska was beyond me. Mr. and Mrs. Cullen had obviously suffered temporary insanity before moving to Arizona. I wasn't any better, really, but atleast Forks was one step up from fucking _Juneau_.

"You live in Phoenix? I used to live in Phoenix with my mom, Renee, til I moved to Washington to live with Charlie. He's my dad. He's the chief of police here in Forks, actually.

Where do you go to school? I miss school in Phoenix. The school here, Forks High, (yes, only _one_ school) is so... small. Everyone knows everyone. The same thing every day is a little boring.

Alright, alright, it says here that you're into the classics. I obviously played my cards right because big guns upstairs set me up with you, a fellow fan of all things classic! What are you into? I'm pretty much in love with Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights and Debussy. None of my friends understand. They're all into shit like Legally Blonde, Harry Potter and Kanye West. _Not_ a fan."

Seriously. Terrible taste in everything.

"I guess I should tell you something about myself. So you don't think I'm some freaky-ass serial killer. I hope your teacher is as dumb as mine and isn't reading this for proof. If they are, hey there! Sorry about the language! Anyway. I told you my name is Bella already. I'm 17 too, and I live with Charlie, I don't like to call him dad, and my brother Emmett. My best friend Alice is here more than half the time so I guess she lives here too.

I don't do much. I read and watch movies and listen to music, and that's already covered.. I mean, I'd get off my ass and do something if it wasn't for the fact that I'm infamous for being able to trip on air. I bet you're laughing at me right now. Stop. It's not funny.

Okay. Enough of this, I'm starting to feel like a crazy person, talking to myself.

Bella.

P.S. I hope you're not like, upset or something. It's not your fault I don't want to do this stupid assignment. Don't feel too bad. Do me a favour and sign the piece of paper saying you got my letter? I'll fail this stupid course if you don't."

"Yeah, Bella, you show him who's boss," I muttered.

I quickly folded the letter and shoved it in an envelope, licked the edges and stuck it shut. Leave it to me to get a papercut on my tongue. Son of a _bitch_.

After quickly jotting down Edward's address and sticking a stamp in the right corner, along with my return address in the left, I pulled on a light jacket and my sneakers. Time to mail this baby.

Walking to the post office in the rain? That's commitment. Not falling once? That, my friends, is a miracle.

A+, here I come.


End file.
